


A Mouse in a Lion's Den

by miitgaanar



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, First book only, canon-divergent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 04:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17481278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miitgaanar/pseuds/miitgaanar
Summary: A bargain made to save her skin has landed the scheming young mortal Melody in the unfortunate position of the High Lord of Night's personal spy.  Her skills are unmatched, but this is a land far different than Autumn's, filled with dark creatures and even darker intentions than she was prepared to face.  And yet, when war looms on the horizon, Melody decides to seek out the answers to questions she is denied by her gracious benefactor.After all, Rhysand might have plans for her, but this war could disrupt her own very delicate agenda.





	A Mouse in a Lion's Den

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bossladyharley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossladyharley/gifts).



> A little thing for my very wonderful friend @bossladyharley.

Eternal darkness sat heavy and impenetrable in the skies of the Night Court, faint starlight only just barely piercing the onyx abyss looming overhead.  It never changed, hardly even shifted, save for the phases of the moon, the only sure sign that time truly did pass in these northern fae lands.  The magic at work here, long forgotten to even the oldest of the fae lords, was strong, unbreakable, damning the land to a long lasting night, its soil forever cursed to never feel the kiss of the sun’s rays, to see the bright blue of an early morning sky.

But for Melody, that darkness was a blessing, one that she had learned to utilize in her few short months as the High Lord’s honored  _guest_.

She crept through the halls of the infamous Court of Nightmares, the lanterns smoldering as they were allowed to burn out.  Melody had to restrain the scoff that sat at the back of her throat.  In the mortal lands, every drop of oil, every inch of a candle’s wick was a precious resource, never used to excess and carefully rationed.  To allow these hundreds upon hundreds of lanterns and hearths to burn themselves out was the most blatant show of opulence she had ever seen, and that was including her time in Autumn’s service.  

It was a waste.  A complete and utter waste.  The fae had centuries to live, centuries to enjoy their lives as they saw fit, most of them living in comfort and luxury that she had never seen before, all while the humans below the Wall spent their handful of decades scraping together a barebones existence, trying their damnedest to live out their years in search of a few scraps of happiness—at least until death came to claim them only too soon, one way or the other.

But the problems from below the Wall were beyond her now, and had been for some time.  Besides, she had much more pressing matters to attend to, like finding the damned War Room.

Melody carefully made her way through darkened hallways, listening every few steps for the telltale laughter of the fae at play, for the approaching footsteps of guards that patrolled these long, cold halls.  But no such sounds reached her ears, a delicate silence permeating the air around her.  

A smirk pulled at the corners of her mouth as she weaved her way through the shadows, carefully avoiding the pale light of the moon through the windows lining the corridors.  She knew that Rhysand had better things to worry about than the lonely mortal taking up residence in his home, but surely he hadn’t underestimated her  _this_  badly.  He couldn’t have thought that she would pass up the chance to make her way back into that War Room, to gaze upon the maps holding vital information about the courts to the south of them.  She had been permitted the barest glimpse of them when he first brought her here from Autumn, but things had… changed since then.  War was on the horizon, she had gathered that much from Rhysand’s mutterings and cryptic taunts.  She needed to know how this could affect her own schemes, her own plans.

Or, perhaps, play right into her hand.

Her boots near soundless on the dark, marble floor, Melody’s eyes strained to see in the dim, surprised to find that the halls were beginning to look familiar, the tapestries that lined the walls harkening back to that night spent amongst Rhysand’s people.

She was nearly there.  She could feel it.

Darting from shadow to shadow, her mortal ears nearly ringing in the silence, she finally found herself standing before the ornately carved wooden doors of the War Room, the etchings in the dark paneling telling tales of bloody, ruthless battles fought centuries ago.

Her body thrummed with anticipation, reaching for the cool metal of the handle as her pulse began to quicken.  She stopped just short of pulling the door open, listening one last time for any sign of unwelcome company, only to be met with complete and utter silence.

Melody almost couldn’t help the grin that split her features.  The mighty and fearsome Lord of Night was truly a fool to have trusted his mortal spy to stay put in her rooms until called upon.  He underestimated people too easily.  Information she could possibly use to barter for a foothold in one of the other courts—perhaps even several of them.

She had just turned the knob of the door when she felt it, a gentle caress against that will of ash that had brought her into the Night Court’s hold to begin with.

“Well, then, dearest, it would seem that you are far bolder than I gave you credit for.”  A voice like the cool caress of a night breeze suddenly shattered the quiet, forcing a surprised gasp from her lips as she spun on her heels, only to find herself face to face with the High Lord of the Night Court himself.

And as she stared up into those violet eyes, twinkling with the dark promise of retribution, she realized that she had forgotten the first and most important lesson she had learned of this dark and deadly place: the silence was dangerous.

“Lord Rhysand,” she forced out, breathless, every ounce of bravado only too easily ripped from her grasp.

“So respectful,” he said, his voice only just above that of a whisper. “What happened to that sharp tongue of yours, mortal?  Did you lose it somewhere in the winding halls of my home?  A shame.  I had quite looked forward to watching you attempt to explain your way out of this one.”

Heat bloomed across her cheeks as she inched her way back from him, his looming figure seeming far more imposing than she remembered.  “I’ve been cooped up in that room for weeks now.  Something’s going on out there,  _my lord_ —” she practically spat the title, determined to at least attempt to save face, “—and I  _will_  find out exactly what.  You brought me here for a reason, or did you forget that with Autumn ready to beat down Spring’s doors?”

Rhysand arched a single brow.  “Clever little mouse, skittering about in the shadows where few expect to find you.”

“I’m a spy,” she said, annoyance finally filling in where fear had briefly taken residence.  “It’s what I do.  I thought you knew that, High Lord.”

“I  _thought_  you were smart enough to stay out of affairs that did not concern you,” he said, his voice dipping downward into a low growl.  “Stick to your own purposes, human.  You’ll find these fae politics to be far more than you bargained for.”

“You brought me here to serve  _your_  purposes.”  She found herself standing taller, her gaze never wavering from those deep violet irises.  “And I think you’ll find I work better when I’m fully aware of all of the players on the board.”

His hand shot out faster than her eyes could follow, his fingers wrapping themselves around her jaw, only just tight enough to cause her flesh to smart in his grasp.  Rhysand’s lips curled into a cruel, calculating smile, his teeth a stark white in the darkness that surrounded him.  “You tread where few mortals dare, dear Melody.  And, dare I say, where even fewer live to tell of their perils.”

Melody’s breathing quickened a fraction, her pulse loud in her ears as she glared up at him, forcing her gaze to remain steady, daring,  _fearless_.  “I was never one to bother with the odds, Lord Rhysand.  I thought that stint within Autumn’s household would have told you that much.”

That smile widened into a fully realized grin, making her only too aware of the sharpened teeth that lay inches from her exposed throat.  “I suppose you’d be right.”  

Rhysand leaned forward, his free hand reaching somewhere behind her.  For a brief moment of horror, she thought he might mean to snap her neck, to end her pitiful, mortal life here in this darkened hall, leaving her body for his subjects to find and do with as they wished.

She almost fought back, she almost moved to crash her head into the bridge of his nose.  She had no idea how much time that would buy her, but it had to hurt like a bitch whether you were human or fae-kind.

But then she heard the click of a door knob turning, the quiet grinding of the various gears that lay within the wood paneling, and found that the door behind her inched its way open, the War Room now easily within reach.

“So, tell me, Melody,” Rhysand purred, releasing his hold on her jaw.  “What exactly is it you wish to know?”


End file.
